In the Gloom
by December Writing Dragon
Summary: Anton still enjoyed his mini disc player, even if his coworkers found his fondness for it both amusing and sad. Anton did not mind, however, because the songs it provided always seemed so fitting. Today was no different. Was Florence Welch and Other?


**In the Gloom**

Summer in Moscow was a time of renewed energy, when the city shed its layers of furs and thick fabrics and could move freely once again.

Or as freely as Moscow traffic allowed. The inclusion of a lane reserved only for public transportation had somehow seen more congestion since its installment.

Anton Gorodetsky, field agent of the Moscow Night Watch, was used to walking, so it made little difference to him. But it did give the Dark Others something more to feed off of, that negative energy emitted by commuters whose lives had been made even just a bit more difficult. Little things added up, Anton had learned in his time with the Watch.

Moscow summers could be stifling- this one would be too, no doubt- but at least the sun would seep into people's skin and maybe even their attitudes, make them just a bit happier than the dreariness of winter that was only temporarily tamed by the holidays. Even in this warmth, Anton enjoyed the walks down the street, the trip through the metro, weaving between cars and fellow pedestrians. Not particularly to appreciate the nuances of his city; he lived here. A daily companion loses some of its fascination after the first ten or so years. No, Anton was content with walking because it granted him a chance to use his mini disc player, which all his coworkers still either balked or shook their heads pityingly at. Particularly Olga, for whatever reason, gave him an almost patronizingly motherly look, as if apologizing to Anton for his own choice.

Too many times had Anton's disc player produced a soundtrack for his life that was all too fitting. And after so many years carefully cultivating his collection, Anton would not surrender its ability to narrate his life so well.

His taste had even been broadened over the years. His work had sent him across the globe on multiple occasions, from Tashkent to Paris; that, coupled with just how easily accessible the arts were becoming, Anton had a very well-rounded soundtrack.

The next song to begin was one Anton was familiar with- he even vaguely recalled it being played when Sochi hosted the Paralympics, Russia's first ever. He had liked it well enough then and now, but on this warm, meandering Moscow summer day, he took a moment to really listen. Sat on a bench in Gorky Park, Anton raised the volume, watching others walk by with their minds whirring with completely unrelated thoughts or concerns, oblivious to Anton's eyes widening as the words to the song sunk in.

 _A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes  
I screamed aloud, as it tore through them, and now it's left me blind_

 _The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out  
You left me in the dark  
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight  
In the shadow of your heart_

Was Florence Welch an Other? It was certainly possible. She sang of the Gloom with a very personal touch. But how would she know everyone was indeed always in the Gloom, that the layers ultimately formed a circle that brought them right back here, to the plane of the simultaneously mundane and brutal? Not many had ventured even beyond the third layer. The first layer of the Gloom tired out most Others, and for good enough reason. On the first layer, moss lingered in areas of concentrated sadness, relishing in the negativity, the grief, perpetuating their own food source. By the second layer, the chills that merely tingled the skin then rattled the bones, all the world becoming a shadowy watercolor version of itself. The people beyond that layer were barely shadows, moving in slow motion, barely carrying on with their lives.

And so it went, each layer more unique and bizarre and exhausting to be in, ready to latch onto weak Others who dared penetrate it and never let go.

 _And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat  
I tried to find the sound  
But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness,  
So darkness I became_

Their own affiliations did not hold as tightly as the Gloom did. Was it not Merlin, Anton mused, frowning slightly, who had switched sides? Become a Dark Other when his deeds matched those of Anton's enemies? Zabulon would have done the same as Merlin without a second thought-

But… wouldn't Gesar too? Wouldn't Anton's own boss, head of the Moscow Night Watch, have done what even the humans would call an act of evil, if it meant maintaining the balance- or, most forbidden but most ideal, tip the balance in favor of the Light? Was that not why vampires were allowed to hunt teenagers, as long as they had a license?

Yegor…

Had Anton himself not befriended Dark Others- vampires, one of the lowest of the low?

And what was wrong with that?

Kostya… dear Kostya. What a modern Greek tragedy that whole situation had been. How noble, as pure as anything else that lined the road to hell. To want to make every being an Other…

And what was wrong with that?

A fair amount, it had turned out.

But that was not Anton's business. It had been. Things like that used to be his concern, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind too easily probed by Gesar and Olga's sharp eyes- and even (or, especially) Svetlana's.

Now, however, Anton was just an agent with assignments to carry out.

Oh, how he used to care. How indignant he had been.

 _I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map  
And knew that somehow I could find my way back  
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too  
So I stayed in the darkness with you_

Gesar had sent him far. Both through the ranks and around the world. Anton had gone where he needed. Had become who the Light wanted. Even now, sat in Gorky Park, Anton closed his eyes, looked into the Gloom from behind his closed lids. The smudged world of the first level of the Gloom appeared normal. There were a few pockets of parasitic moss here and there particularly at benches- but for the most part, the Light prevailed. No one was hiding in the first layer either, or else Anton would have seen.

A whole spectrum of auras blinked around him. A couple with the dancing vibrancy of love. A businessman with the steely tinge of ambition. An elderly woman whose bands and spirals and cords of color were in a tangled confusion; her mind was going, and with it her sense of self. Not even she could entirely make out how she felt. Except, Anton could just barely make out, there was a faint flicker of love. Not the same wild, fresh love of the couple across from him, but something softer, even more potent and intense against the confused mess of unique characteristics. It was a familial love, and the coloring that represented it flashed brighter when a kid- her grandson, no doubt, darted up to her excitedly, his own aura dancing with happiness and free of darker colors. It reminded Anton of Nadezhda- his Nadyushka, Nadyenka- when she had been young. Her youth had been when her aura was its brightest and most free of worries. For the most part, even now, her aura was remarkably bright.

Anton supposed he should be lucky, after all Nadya shouldn't be worried. Unlike either of her parents, she gave off absolutely no magical Power, which made her one of the most powerful Others to exist. What did she have to worry about besides boys, grades, and makeup?

"College. Friends. Career. The Dark," Svetlana would rattle off if she had heard Anton's thoughts-

His phone buzzed, the tune deafened by Florence's melodious dedication to the Others and the Gloom everyone inhabited.

 _Pick up Nadya from Innokenti's at eight_ , Svetlana had dictated. Anton shook his head, a wry smile managing to appear across his face.

Of course Sveta would know what he had been thinking.

Wasn't eight a bit late, though? Those two could get up to all sorts of unpleasantries before Anton arrived.

With a hum, Anton assured Svetlana he would do as instructed, making a mental note to arrive by six instead, and looked back into the Twilight.

Oh.

He must have missed it before, had succumbed nostalgia.

The boy and his grandmother…

Laced with his aura's colors was the unmistakable sign of…

He was an Other.

Anton hummed once more, retrieving his phone to contact Gesar. But of course the old bear had already sent him a message: _Zabulon wants to know this is done right._

It would be. Anton had learned on one of his first field assignments how particular both Watches could be about how things were handled. Depending on the boy's mood when he first entered the Gloom, he would be either of the Light or Dark.

Neither side was supposed to influence such things.

Both sides did whatever they could without getting caught.

 _So I stayed in the darkness with you…_

Anton was a father. A Husband. A powerful Light Other. A field agent of the Moscow Night Watch.

Florence Welch might be an Other. Maybe she was a member of the London Night Watch. He had not asked when he was in the United Kingdom, but he should have. She seemed very well informed. She knew, with this song, on a level Anton did not often encounter among most Others.

So maybe she would understand now when Anton, once naïve, once even a bit idealistic, stood sentry to make sure no one from the Day Watch was present, no Dark Others around to influence this young soul's first trip into the Gloom, sway him from the Light.

He was a member of the Night Watch.

So he had to play the game by their rules.

Which was to say, abandon them when it was safe.


End file.
